Dribbly Drabbly Things
by nanniships
Summary: Short slices of Banna, mainly from Terriejane's Weekend Challenges on tumblr, plus other odd assorted prompt type things that have passed through my head.
1. It's in the Eyes

It's in the Eyes

Anna knows she should feel terrible about being so nosy. Yes, it's rude to pry. Yes, Mrs. Bates has been kind and welcoming to the strange woman who has appeared out of nowhere, claiming to know her son. Yes, she should just sit and wait patiently at the table while Mrs. Bates gathers the tea things and hums in the kitchen.

She knows all of this and any other time would be appalled at her lack of decorum. Her mum would never let her hear the end of it, if she knew. But this is John's mother's home, and the closest she has come to his past in all the years she's known him. In ten minutes, looking eagerly around Mrs. Bates' parlor, she has seen traces of him, of his life before Downton, and she is unabashedly hungry for more. Her eyes roam over the small collection of articles on the sideboard and fall on a small picture of a young man in uniform.

Her heart beats faster as she rises from her chair and glides over to get a closer look. It is hard to make out the details- the photo is old and cracking at the corners, the glass covering it is cloudy. She is hard put to recognize John in the shy, proud face of the young man under the campaign hat. His uniform is rumpled and he holds his rifle in an easy grip. She smiles as she notices the flap on his right pocket is turned up. It is so different from the well starched, buttoned down valet that she has come to admire and love.

"I see you've found my favorite picture of Johnny," Mrs. Bates' voice rings behind her. Anna turned with a gasp, embarrassed to have been caught so boldly snooping. Mrs. Bates smiled gently at her and placed the tea tray on the little round table.

"I'm so sorry," Anna gasped. "I was just…" She made a helpless gesture at the picture and decided not to say anything more, as it was painfully obvious what she had been doing.

"Ah, he was a fine looking lad. Not that he's not still a fine looking lad," Mrs. Bates said with a fond smile. Anna certainly didn't disagree. "That was before all the troubles…his wound, his wife…" Mrs. Bates shook her head sadly. "There are times when it's hard to believe that John and this lad are one and the same now."

Anna turned for one last look at the picture, searching for any trace of John Bates now in the sweet face of the young man. There…in the eyes. There was the determination, the resolve, perhaps even the stubborn honor. Everything that shone from his eyes now when she met them with her own. Eyes that resembled the kind, older, but very sharp eyes looking at her now.

At Mrs. Bates' invitation, she sat down for a very welcome cup of tea… and a little chat about the journey that handsome young soldier took to become the man she loved today.


	2. Soundproofing

Soundproofing

It was Ivy's fault it was even brought up. She took one look at the yawns, Mr. Carson's constipated scowl, and Mr. Barrow's cold glare at Mr. and Mrs. Bates, and simply had to ask.

"What's going on? Why is everyone so tired?" she chirped as she placed platters on the table. "Didn't you get enough sleep last night?"

Mr. Carson's left eye twitched alarmingly. Mrs. Hughes chewed her lower lip and gazed at her toast like she was praying for the marmalade to reveal an epiphany. Mrs. O'Brien stared at her in contempt. Jimmy tried unsuccessfully to stifle a snicker and that set off Alfred and two of the three maids at the far end of the table. Mr. Barrow just continued glaring as Mr. Bates busied himself with his breakfast, a tiny smile quirking the corner of his mouth and Mrs. Bates looked over at her husband's hands as if they were the most fascinating appendages in the British empire.

"That will be enough of THAT," Mr. Carson growled at the lower end of the table. "And thank you for your…concern, Ivy, but I'm sure everyone got enough sleep." Ivy just shrugged in clueless confusion and started to leave before turning back at the door.

"Last night, did anyone else hear all that…?"

"Doesn't Mrs. Patmore need you in the kitchen, Ivy?" Mrs. Hughes interrupted firmly, cutting her off and administering cheerful smacks between Mr. Carson's shoulder blades as he chose that moment to try to breathe tea. As Mr. Carson was incapable of drawing breath, and Mrs. Hughes wasn't at all certain about what he'd say when he could, she dismissed the table and told everyone to get busy.

"Some were getting busy around five in the morning," Mr. Barrow muttered, earning him a glare and a sputter from a very red faced butler.

"Perhaps, if we all went in together, we could get some soundproofing for the servant's rooms," Mr. Barrow suggested, as he stood to leave, with a final glare at the Bateses. Everyone scattered off to their duties.

"You needn't look so smug," Anna hissed in Mr. Bates' ear as she passed him. His smile widened.

"Should I find Mr. Barrow some earplugs?" he whispered back. She just shook her head and glared at him as she left. Then she turned back at the door.

"Maybe you should," she tossed over her shoulder.


	3. Winter's Advantages

Winter's Advantage

The sides of the cottage seemed to shake as another gust of bitter wind roared through. Snow hit the windows with sharp little splats, causing those inside the cottage to shiver and be thankful for the shelter of the walls and the fitful warmth of the fire.

"Horrid day," John Bates murmured, leaning against the front window. He strained to see across to the coal shed and cast a glum look at the few lumps left in the scuttle by the fire.

"It's not as bad as all that, Mr. Bates."

He smiled at the reflection in the window of his wife sitting with her feet up, as close to the fire as she could get without burning her stockings. She looked up at him from her sewing and corrected him with a twinkle in her eye.

"You may be able to find a silver lining in any cloud," he replied, turning from the window and walking across the room to stand behind her, "but even you have to admit the weather is wretched. All our plans for our half day - scuppered."

"Well…we planned to run errands and have tea out, but thanks to the storm, I get to spend a cozy afternoon in the cottage with my husband doing nothing much." She tipped her head back to smile at him. "How often does that ever happen, Mr. Bates?"

"You have a point," he admitted, giving in to the impulse to bend down and kiss her forehead.

"Why fret over what we can't do when there are so many things we can do?"

"Such as?" he asked.

Anna rolled her eyes at him. "Such as…you can finish that book you've been trying to read for weeks. Or, if you're not in the mood for…what was it again?"

"H.G. Wells, _The Outline of History_. And I'm not much in the mood for it today."

"Then you can read to me. We've got that book of sonnets you've tried to read to me for ages."

"I get rather distracted when I read you love poetry, my dear."

Anna smiled down at her sewing and John grinned as he watched the flush bloom on her cheek.

"Silly begger. It's hardly my fault. And if you don't feel like reading, we can play cards, or bake a tart, or you can help me wind yarn, or—"

"Alright…alright…you've convinced me. We'll have a lovely half day together here in each other's company." He sat in the chair next to hers by the fire and delighted in her smile. They sat in comfortable silence, listening to the wind in the flue. John was basking in the heat, feeling the tightness in his knee relax, when the coal shifted, making the fire hiss and crackle, startling them both. John groaned and looked disgruntled.

"Why such a face Mr. Bates? Can't you think of anything you'd like to do?"

"I can think of something I _must_ do, and that's go out and fetch enough coal for the night. I'm not looking forward to it…" He trailed off in confusion as her smile broadened.

"Must I make all the suggestions, Mr. Bates?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sure we can think of some way of keeping warm without having you go out into this storm," she said in a low, teasing voice.

"I might have a few ideas," John replied, as he abruptly rose from his chair. Anna giggled as he snatched the sewing from her hands and leaned over her.

"You're blocking the fire, John!" she said, grinning as she leaned up and put her arms around his neck.

"I'll keep you warm, don't you worry about that," he growled, finding her lips with a kiss that promised sufficient heat for the night.

"I told you it wasn't such a bad day," she murmured.

"Mmmm…well thank you for showing me all of winter's advantages, Mrs. Bates."


	4. Compensations

___**He could see by the way she narrowed her eyes that the argument wasn**__**'**__**t over by any stretch of imagination.**_

"I _saw_ how that cane buckled, John Bates," she hissed. "You could have taken a nasty fall at the back door. Go and get a new one on your half day tomorrow."

"Don't fuss, Anna," he muttered back, looking quickly around to ensure they were being overheard. "I said I can mend it."

"You've already mended it," she pointed out. Her chin had taken on a stubborn jut, and John knew well she wasn't likely to be moved or give up.

"Then I'll mend it again," he said firmly. "I'm not spending good money on a new cane."

She glared a him a moment, then smiled. John began to sweat; he'd seen that smile before.

"The bells have gone," she said, as if they hadn't been arguing. "We'd better be off."

John waved his arm to indicate that she should go first, but she shook her head.

"You go. I'll catch you up."

He could feel her eyes on him as he walked with dignity towards the stairs. As he began to ascend, his cane wobbled alarmingly every time he leaned on it. Concentrating, he failed to notice that Anna was right behind him, following his progress with a scowl.

"Tomorrow!" she proclaimed, making him jump and grab for the bannister.

"Anna!"

"You will go to Ripon and get a new cane tomorrow, or I'll get one for you, and you _won__'__t _like it." With that, Anna moved passed him on the stairwell, pressing against him perhaps more than necessary, and preceded him up the stairs.

John watched her march up the stairs, hips swaying angrily, and mused that there were compensations to loosing an argument with his wife.


	5. What day is it anyway?

What day is it anyway?

___**"Aren**__**'**__**t you a little over-dressed?**__**"**_

John Bates looked at his wife in confusion, pomade slathered on the fingers of one hand while the other reached for his comb. Anna stood in the doorway of their bedroom, dressed in a faded, light blue frock, her hair pulled back in a simple plait rather than the usual intricate knot she wore for work.

"And you won't need all THAT," she said,pointing to the pomade he had just dug from the container. Rolling her eyes, she stepped closer to the vanity where he was performing the last tasks of his routine before heading to the abbey.

Captivated by her casual appearance, and more than a little befuddled, John didn't resist as she took his hand and wiped his fingers clean of the thick,scented pomade. He was brought to his senses, though, when she stuck her finger under the knot of his tie with an impatient mutter and undid his careful windsor knot.

"Anna!" He brought up his hand to prevent her from loosening anything else. "What are you doing? Why aren't you dressed?"

"I am dressed," she said with a laugh, scanning her dress with exaggerated motion. "The question is, why are you dressed for work?"

"Because I'm going to work," he said, emphasizing each word. "Aren't you?"

Anna stepped back and gave him a long look. Then she shook her head with a quick smile and stepped closer to him. "You've forgotten, haven't you?"

"Forgotten what?" he asked, trying to retie his tie while dancing away from his wife as she began unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Anna!" Giving up on his tie, he took her hands in his and pulled her to him so that she couldn't reach anymore buttons.

"John!" she said in a matching tone. "We requested this half day weeks ago so we could paint the spare room and take care of a few things. You'd better get out of those clothes…remember what happened last time you painted."

John just stared at her. "As much as I hate to disobey an order of that nature from you, I'm afraid this isn't our requested half day."

"What? Of course it is. I have it down on the calendar…" She stepped over to the wall where a monthly calendar hung. John took advantage of her absence to quickly reknit his tie and do up his buttons, sighing a little as he did.

"Right here!" Anna said triumphantly, pointing to a square, "our half day to…" As she took another look at the day under her fingertip, she suddenly looked at John with a panicked expression. "What day is it anyway?"

"The twelfth," he replied immediately. "His Lordship has two meetings in York today and I had planned to take two pairs of his shoes to the menders. I called in yesterday to make sure they were expecting them, so I'll be sure to get back before the end of the day."

Anna's look of panic became one of horror. She began unbuttoning her frock with shaking fingers, muttering under her breath as her fingers refused to fly any faster. John watched with amusement as he put on his suit coat .

"Could you please get my shoes from the paper downstairs," she begged, dropping her dress carelessly to the floor. "I don't think I shined them last night," she moaned, "I was so sure today was our half day."

"Yes, alright. I'll get them." He paused on the way out of the door as she whipped her old chemise over her head and dug frantically in the wardrobe for her nicer one. She poked her head out, clutching her black stockings in one hand and undoing her plait with the other.

"John! Hurry please!" she pleaded. He smiled and fulfilled his errand as quickly as he could.

"Anything else, darling?" he asked, grinning as her hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders as she struggled to pull on her work stockings as quickly as possible without tearing them. She looked at him in exasperation."

"You don't need to look as if you're enjoying this quite so much," she snapped.

"Fair is fair," he protested with a smile. "You seemed to be enjoying the prospect of undressing me a few minutes ago. I'm fortunate to be able to watch you do the opposite." She glared at him and attached her garters. "If you ask me nicely, I might help you do up your buttons."

For a moment, he wondered if he'd gone too far in his teasing. Her cheeks turned red and she tossed her hair vigorously as she stood up. She turned her back to him to retrieve her work dress and faced away from him as she slipped it over her head.

"Anna…" he began to apologize. She whirled to face him with her hands on her hips and a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

"John, will you _please_ help with my buttons," she asked, as her eyes sparkled.

Relieved that she had seen the humor in the situation, he stepped forward promptly and efficiently buttoned up the front of her dress. As she lifted her arms to begin coiling up her hair, he found himself somewhat distracted by the way her chest pushed towards him and lingered over the top few buttons.

"Stop, John," she huffed as he kissed her neck above her collar, making her drop a piece of her hair.

"I can't help it," he muttered, "you're a little overdressed."

They were quite late to breakfast. But Anna was content, having gotten her husband out of the house without any pomade.


	6. The Rescue

The Rescue

**Clearly, something had to be done!**

The tiny beast was still stuck up the tree and making the most pathetic cries. Anna wrung her hands and looked at her husband pleadingly.

"We can't just _leave_ it there, John," she pleaded. "It won't last the night."

John Bates looked grimly at the tree and couldn't meet Anna's eyes. Perhaps, when he was twenty years younger and two healthy knees ahead, he _might_ have tried scaling the tree.

Who was he kidding? If Anna asked him to, and he was able, he'd claw his way up like raccoon. But there was simply no way he was going to be able to climb now. The trunk was slick with rain and there were no conveniently low branches to grab. Even if he was in the fullness of health and youth, it was doubtful he'd have been able to do it.

"Anna…" he began.

"What about a ladder? We could ask the gardeners if we can use a ladder?" she asked eagerly.

"It's very nearly dark," he protested. "And I doubt we could find a ladder that tall, or carry it from the sheds between us."

Anna winced as the kitten let out another series of desperate cries. John was about to take her into his arms and try to lead her away when he she stepped back and began sizing up the tree with a frighteningly determined look on her face.

"Anna? What are you up to?"

"If you were to…maybe…give me a boost, I might be able to reach that first branch," she said speculatively.

John stared at her in disbelief. She couldn't be serious. But as he watched, she pursed her lips and her eyes went from branch to branch, as if determining on a route.

"Absolutely not," he said firmly. "No."

A flash of irritation crossed her face and she raised her eyebrows at his tone. John stood firm and raised his eyebrows right back at her.

"I can climb that tree, John," she stated matter of factly.

"Not unless I give you a boost," he replied sharply. "And I will not be a party to my wife climbing a tree in the rain to rescue a cat at risk of life and limb."

Anna crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. John suddenly found himself fighting a smile.

"You're beautiful when you're angry."

Anna's jaw clenched and her foot began to tap the ground as she struggled not to say something she'd regret later.

They stood toe to toe, Anna glaring and John smirking, as the rain began to fall harder and it got darker. The kitten yowled piteously, making both of them look up.

Anna's face fell and she shivered. John stepped closer, taking off his coat and wrapping it around her.

"You'll catch your death," she scolded him with a catch in her voice.

"Better me than you. Let's go home, Anna. There's nothing we can do."

She nodded sadly and as they turned to make their way home to the cottage, a blurry yellow streak flew between them. Anna gasped in surprise and they both spun back to see a bedraggled cat climbing swiftly up the tree trunk. The kitten's cries increased in volume, if that was possible.

"Look, John! Its mother has come back for it!"

She leaned back into his chest as he brought his arms up around her and they stood in the rain together, watching as the mother cat made it up the tree and took her kitten's nape in her mouth. It took a fair few minutes for the cat to get back down with her bundle, but John and Anna stayed and watched, getting wetter all the time. Both breathed a sigh of relief when the mother cat reached the ground and disappeared into the trees.

"I could have climbed that tree, you know," she said as they made their way home.

"I'd have never let you climb that tree, you know," he replied with a smile. "Just because something has to be done doesn't mean it has to be done by you."

"You were singing a different tune when you claimed you couldn't undo those trouser buttons the other night."

"There are some things that can _only_ be done by you, my dear."


	7. Suggestive

**"****Why**_** Mrs. Bates, **_**whatever are you suggesting?****"**

"I'm suggesting, as we have the same half day for once, that we make the most of it, Mr. Bates," Anna replied, smiling broadly at her husband's teasing.

"Would 'making the most of it' involve what you bundled into your bag and wouldn't let me see yesterday?" He laughed at the shocked and guilty look that sprang to her face.

"Now that would be telling," she replied mischievously when she recovered. "And shame on you for spying on me."

"I wasn't spying," he protested. "I just can't stop myself from watching you every chance I get." His smile widened as she flushed and looked around quickly to make sure their little tete a tete in the corridor wasn't being observed.

"That's enough of _that_, Mr. Bates," she finally said, lifting her sparkling eyes to meet his. "I've got work to be getting on with, and you'll just have to be patient until our half day."

John took her arm as she tried to walk past him and pulled her close enough to whisper in her ear. Anna shivered as his breath made the loose strands of hair tickle her neck.

"I might have some…suggestions of my own for our half day, Mrs. Bates."

"Might you?" she gasped.

"Yes indeed," he growled as he released her arm and assumed an appropriate distance from her.

"And if I tell you what's in my bag, you might reveal your plans, Mr. Bates?"

Before John could respond, a door shut down the corridor. They both turned to see whose door it was.

"That'll be His Lordship," John said briskly, smiling at Anna's disgruntled expression at having their conversation cut short. With a last lingering look, he turned to go.

"Very well, Mr. Bates," she called after him. "But I'm willing to bet I can get to the bottom of your plans before you get to the bottom of my bag."

He froze as her words hit him and her quiet laughter faded away down the corridor. Taking a deep breath, he continued on to His Lordship's dressing room.

"Oh we'll be getting to the bottom of something, Mrs. Bates," he muttered under his breath, "and I won't be patiently waiting for our half day either."


	8. Keep digging

Keep digging

**John****'****s eyes were drawn to the large basket setting on the trunk at the foot of their bed. **He let out a low whistle and looked sideways at his wife with a smirk.

"Since when did you find ladies clothing so fascinating?" Anna asked, beginning to lay out some of the items. She stroked the fine fabric of a lovely blue dress Lady Mary had worn maybe all of four times and marveled again at the sheer volume of clothing all of the Crawleys had in their wardrobes. As she shook out a spotless shirtwaist, she looked with amusement at John.

"It's always exciting seeing what the new season brings, isn't it?" he asked, affecting a posh accent that always made Anna snicker and frown at the same time.

"You needn't make fun, John," she said, trying to frown at him. "I do get the benefit when room must be made for the newest fashions."

"I'm not making fun," he protested with a smile as she continued to sort through the basket, laying aside some lovely, silky chemises which caught John's attention immediately. "I get the benefit as well."

"His Lordship doesn't follow the changes in fashion quite as much as the ladies do," she replied, "but it's nice that you were able to alter that nice grey suit. It wasn't at all threadbare. Why did His Lordship give it up?"

"Well, just between the two of us, it was getting a little tight on him," he replied with a wink. "But His Lordship's things weren't the benefit I was talking about."

"Then what?" she asked as she continued to pull out a hat and two pairs of shoes. "Oh…these are lovely, aren't they?"

"Mmmm…I don't see how they fit your tiny feet."

"I'll make them work. They're only for special occasions anyway. I couldn't possibly use them for working in." She stopped unloading the basket to look curiously at him. "Why are you just standing there watching me?"

"It's my favorite thing to do," he answered.

She smiled and flushed under his scrutiny. "Silly beggar. Surely you've got better things to do than to watch me unpack some dresses."

"Not a thing," he assured her. "Besides, you haven't gotten to the best part yet."

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Bates?"

"Keep digging…"

With a suspicious look, she continued taking out items until she pulled out several beautiful nightgowns and a lingerie set. She stared at them and dropped them back into the basket.

"Why did you do that?" he asked with a grin.

"There must be a mistake," she said firmly. "These weren't among the items for me to choose from."

"Then Lady Mary must have put them in later."

"Don't be silly, John. Why would she…?" Anna trailed off as his grin got wider. She planted her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. "These aren't Lady Mary's things at all!"

"I'm not sure how _I'm_ supposed to know which things are hers…"

"John Bates!"

"Everything in that basket is yours, so what does it matter where it came from?"

"Did you put these in while the basket was sitting by the door? How long have you been wandering through the halls of Downton with _these_ in your pocket?" She picked up the intimate items and shook them at him.

His smile got wider. "I think I'll just let you speculate about that for a while longer."

"Well, if you think I'll be wearing _these_ anytime soon…" she said, suppressing a smile as she watched the sudden concern fly across his face, "…then you're absolutely right!"

"That makes it all worth it," he replied happily, pulling her from next to the bed and taking her in his arms.

"All worth it?" she asked, looping her arms around his neck and rising up her tiptoes. He gave a little grunt and lifted her off the floor.

"The looks Mr. Carson gave me all day when he spotted the lace from the lingerie falling out of my pocket at breakfast."

He had to wait until she stopped laughing before kissing her.


	9. A Quiet Life

**A/N: A response to one of terriejane's prompts on tumblr to tell a story form the POV of the cottage!**

A Quiet Life

I like a quiet life, me. Of course, if there's one thing a tenant cottage can never count on, it's peace and quiet. Even the older lady that live here before talked incessantly to her cat…

Still, a bit of life is a good thing. It would actually get a little lonely during the day, when they were both gone up to the Big House. That was new one on me, I must say. With previous tenants, there was nearly always someone around during the day, but not with these two. Both of them at work left me with a lot of time on my walls to think.

I didn't expect it to last, of course. With the shenanigans the two of them got up to, practically from the moment they set foot in here…well, I didn't expect it to be the two of them for very long. Couldn't even wait to get the place cleaned up, could they?

When the winter would set in, and the wind would groan around my windows, I'd hear them talking. Not that I was eavesdropping, mind. No indeed; my eaves are nailed down secure. It wasn't like I could avoid hearing them. They weren't whispering.

So I knew how much they wanted a family. And even though it would spell the end of my quiet life, I was on their side. They were such nice folks and it just seemed like the next thing. I could put up with food in the cracks and toys in the crevices. That extra room was just sitting there…waiting.

But then something happened, and they weren't taking so much. She even left for a time - leaving me with that morose bugger and his stick. He'd brood so loud, I could hear him in the attic even when he wasn't saying a word. All the joy had been sucked out of me. People never stop to think about what that does to cottage. If it goes on long enough, it seeps into the very boards on the walls.

Well, she came back eventually, but the joy didn't come back for a long time. I had the sun shine in just as often as I could, but she had mentioned something about shadows, and by God, they were still lurking about. Even when things got better, even when there was happiness between them again, there was still something.

Not to boast, but I've seen a great many families through their lives together. And as much as I like the quiet life, I know it never bodes well when my people get too quiet, when they don't talk. And I really never liked it when things got hidden, because nothing ever stays hidden. I knew when I saw something get stashed away that it would only be a matter of time…

Well, that ended the quiet rightly enough. A good row sometimes clears the air, like opening the windows up in early spring to let the brisk blow away the cobwebs and the sun show where all the dust is. And it was a fine row - shouting, accusations, crying, all sorts. My walls rattled a bit, but I thought it would be a small price to pay to get things right again.

And things were right again. But you'd think I'd learn by now, people just don't have the same foundation as do cottages. They shift and change overnight it seems. The two of them left together, mostly happy I'd say, ready for the next thing in their lives.

But only one of them came back - him with his stick again. And this time she wasn't just off at the Big House, but properly gone. If my studs weren't made of good solid oak, they'd have broken for him.

I just provide the walls, you know. They're the heart of the cottage; they're what makes it alive. When their hearts are broken, I am too, no matter how well I withstand the storm. This time, well, I didn't think that heart was going to beat again. Even when he was here, he wasn't here. And who could blame him, poor chap. His heart was locked away from him.

When he put everything in order, gave it a good clean, I was expecting maybe that it meant good things for them both. But all it meant was that he was packing up and leaving.

I like a quiet life, but not that quiet. They'd left everything, as if they would be back any time. But it was like I'd taken a breath and forgot how to let it out. With only my own cracking and settling to listen to, I was afraid I'd not breathe again.

After a time, she came back. But it was still as quiet as ever. Except for the tears hitting the floor. Those were loud enough to keep me up at night. I never heard the sobs - just the tears.

A cottage either has life or it doesn't. And I didn't. Not then. Not until…well, I don't know exactly what happened, but when that door flew open and slammed into the wall, when their voices ran over each others in their haste to assure each other that they were actually home again, well I knew the quiet life was over again. For good and proper. And I could breathe.

That mark on the wall from the door, though…they haven't noticed it yet. I suspect they will, once it really sinks in that this is home again.

They're going to have to come out of that bedroom first…


	10. Feet Up

You could paper a wall with the concern in her husband's voice.

Anna Bates smiled through her fatigue and felt some of the journey and emotional upheaval shed away as she watched her husband putter around getting her a fresh cup of tea. His voice was soothing, even as he dug desperately through the biscuit tin hoping to find something left.

"That tin was very nearly full when I left," she called, raising her eyebrow accusingly at him when he stole a sideways glance at her from the kitchen door.

"Was it?" he replied nonchalantly.

"You know it was."

The guilty flash in his eyes became triumph when he managed to find several unbroken ones in the very bottom.

"This should be restorative," he said as he brought her the cup and offered her a small plate with two biscuits on it.

"I could use it," she admitted, stretching her trim body lithely in the chair, not missing the appreciative sparkle in John Bates' eyes. "It was something of a whirlwind trip."

"So you didn't get a chance to put your feet up in London?"

Anna coughed as she sucked in a crumble of ginger biscuit. Her eyes watered as she tried to clear her throat, and she welcomed her husband's hand on her back as he patted her firmly between the shoulder blades.

"Well…I wouldn't say that…. Exactly."

John was too busy helping her take a sip of tea to clear her throat to think too much about her choked response. But the little smile that stole over her face did pique his interest. He'd seen that smile before.

"What are you up to?" he asked in amused suspicion.

"Not nearly enough, Mr. Bates," she replied, making him break into a grin. "And I could use another chance to put my feet up."

"Shall I push the settee over?" he asked, half rising from his chair to do immediate battle with the sitting room furniture.

"Don't bother," she commanded, standing and moving closer to him. "I think your shoulders will do just fine…"

It was a pity those biscuits never got eaten.

**A/N: for gelana, who needed a fluffy/smut restorative biscuit :)**


	11. Just a Peek

Just a Peek

It looked perfect from the outside. The agent had described the small hotel in such glowing terms that neither John nor Anna Bates believed it could possibly be as perfect as it was presented to them. But as they stood on the front steps, she hugged their little girl closer to her and shared an excited glance with her husband.

"What are you waiting for, John?" she asked as she adjusted the blanket a little tighter around the baby. "Aren't you going to knock?"

John Bates just smiled, his eyes full of his little family, and watched as Anna fidgeted excitedly, speaking to Maggie about how pretty the front door was and the flower boxes in the front windows.

"I thought we might wait for the agent," he replied. "And that gives me some time to watch you."

She gave him an exasperated smile. "You get to watch me all the time. I'm anxious to see the inside of the hotel."

"There's not enough time in all eternity to watch you, Anna May Bates.," he proclaimed, leaning closer on pretext of adjusting the baby's blankets again, but stealing a quick kiss behind her ear.

"Mr. Bates! On the front steps? And we don't even own the place…"

He smiled, seeing through her attempt to appear affronted by the little smile that teased her lips. But he did take her warning eyebrow into account and reluctantly stepped away to glance up and down the street for the tardy agent who would manage the sale.

If there was a sale.

At Anna's expectant look, he sighed and stepped up to the door to rap briskly at it. When there was no response, he frowned and looked over at Anna.

"You'd think that someone would be on duty, in case someone wanted to book in," she mused, wrinkling her brow. "We certainly won't just leave the place unmanned."

"We haven't got it yet, love," he reminded her. "And perhaps they've only been running it as a seasonal hotel, so it's not open at all right now for any bookings."

Anna just rolled her eyes at that notion. "I don't see how they could make ends meet if they're not open."

"Maybe that's why they're selling," he suggested. "I suppose we'll just have to wait for the agent."

Anna sighed. "I suppose." She stepped back and examined the front of the hotel with delighted eyes. "It does seem like just what we've been searching for, John. I only hope…"

"I know," he replied, reaching out to run his finger along her cheek. "It does seem perfect, but so did that one in Whitby…."

"And that one was bought out from under us before we could settle on an offer," she finished for him. He smiled at her disgruntled pout.

"We've learned a bit since then," he said with the air of a veteran negotiator. "That'll not happen again."

"If only we could see a bit more of it," she complained. Then her eyes lit up with mischief.

"What?" he asked suspiciously, unable to hold back a smile at her conspiratorial look.

"Hold Maggie for a moment," she ordered.

He obeyed, taking his daughter into his arms and bouncing her as she squawked at the transition. "What are you…? Anna!"

Anna took a quick look around and stepped off the front path, into the flowerbed under the front window. Ignoring her husband's growl of disapproval, she maneuvered carefully through the late blooms and pressed her nose against the glass. As she shielded her eyes and squinted, she could hear John muttering to Maggie that her mother had taken leave of her senses.

"I have not," she countered, throwing him a frown. "I just want a quick—"

Suddenly, from the darkness of the room, a blurry object, making a great deal of noise, hurled itself against the interior window sill. Anna yelped in surprise and stumbled backwards from the window.

"Anna! Be careful—!" John Bates watched as his wife pinwheeled her arms for balance and tried to stay on her feet. Shifting Maggie to his other arm, he reached out to grasp Anna's shoulder and steady her. She clutched at his arm.

"What happened? Are you alright?" he demanded. She nodded, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Good heavens!" she gasped. "They may have left the place empty, but they didn't leave it unprotected."

"What was it?" he asked as he cradled her in his arm and glared at the window where something could be seen periodically at the bottom. The muffled noises continued.

"If I had to guess," Anna said with a trembling laugh, "I'd say it was a dust mop with teeth."

John looked at her like she'd truly lost her mind. She laughed again and held out her arms for Maggie.

"See for yourself," she suggested, jerking her head towards the window.

John carefully made his way closer, and from his greater height, was able to see the tiny but fierce ball of fur hurling itself off of the carpet and barking furiously.

"They left their dog?" he asked rhetorically.

"It would seem so," she replied, smiling at the displeased draw of his brow. "I guess we'd better wait for the agent before we go taking a peek after all."

John looked at her a trifle smugly and opened his mouth to reply. Fortunately for him, the agent came trotting up the street just then in a fever of keys and apologies. After explaining that the owners were up in London taking care of a sick mother, he bent to open the door.

"I'd be careful—" John started to warn him.

"Just let me see to the dog," the agent said, shutting the door in their faces.

John and Anna looked at each other at the muffled sounds of shouting and tearing fabric that came through the door. Even Maggie looked solemnly at the door and then at her mommy.

"Alright then," the smiling agent said a bit breathlessly as he threw the door back open and invited them in. "I've just put him in the back garden. If you'd like to come through…"

The Bateses shared an amused glance at the torn cuffs of the agent's trousers and the unkempt state of his hair.

"Er…the dog isn't included in the price, is he?" John asked. Anna stifled a snort of laughter at the agent's puzzled expression.

"Well…everything is negotiable, Mr. Bates," he finally said before ushering them into a sitting room filled with sheet draped furniture and smelling slightly of angry dog.


	12. Guessing Game

Guessing Game

The high pitched wail felt like a knife in his ear. John Bates hurried towards the door to his cottage as fast as his leg would permit him. Bursting through the door in a great rush, he allowed it to slam into the wall of the tiny entry, startling his wife enough to make her jump and clutch at the tiny bundle in her arms.

"John Bates," she snapped, "Whatever are you doing, crashing into the house like that?"

"Is she alright?" he asked, panting as he struggled to get his breath back. His face twisted in concern as he swiftly moved to stand by Anna's side and reach a tentative hand towards their daughter. "Why is she so upset."

He winced as the baby drew in a wavering breath and began to scream again. Anna crooned to her and began to gently bounce her on her shoulder, but to no avail. She hid her exasperated eye roll as best she could, but John wouldn't have noticed in any case. His whole attention was on the red, scrunched up face of his daughter as her screams tore up and down a most unmelodious scale.

"Shall I go for the doctor?" he asked anxiously.

At that, Anna made no attempt to hide her exasperation. She shifted the baby to one arm so that she could try to sooth him with a gentle touch.

"It's alright, John," she assured him. He looked skeptically at her as the baby wound up for another series of wails.

"She's never cried like this before."

"Of course she has," she corrected him with a smile. "You've just not been here when she does."

"Well…what's the matter?" he demanded.

"I don't know yet," she replied calmly. "That's what she's trying to tell me now." At his confused glance, she smiled and continued: "It's like a guessing game. She cries, and I try to figure out why…then I make her feel better."

"But how can you stand hearing her in such…." John trailed off and flailed his hands as he tried to convey his concern at his daughter's distress.

"It's not easy," she admitted. "But you get used to it…don't you, my darling? Mummy will understand what you need eventually…."

John shifted from foot to foot in anxiety as Anna nuzzled her daughter's face and continued to gently rock her against her shoulder. Anna watched him jitter with nerves and a little smile spread across her face. She abruptly handed the baby to John, who took her with a panicked expression.

"What…what are doing?"

"Why don't you talk to her for a while…try to find out what's got her in such a bother."

"Me? But I can't—" He broke off as Anna gave him a stern look.

"Of course you can. She's never out of your arms from the moment you get home."

"But she's never been like this." John tightened his hold on the baby as she arched her back and screamed.

"She's just got up from a nap and had a good feed," Anna went on. "The nappy is fresh…."

"Then what—"

"That's for you to find out, Mr. Bates," she informed him. "I'll make us some tea."

And with that, she walked calmly into the kitchen, leaving a flabbergasted John holding his desperately screaming baby.

"Shh shhh shhh….what's all this fuss?" Resting the infant on his shoulder, he gently tapped her back. "Full belly, so it can't be you're hungry…"

The baby let out another miserable wail. For a moment, John wished he could join her. He lowered her and cradled her in his large palms, watching her face as she grimaced and screamed.

"Mummy says the nappy is good," he murmured. "So what are you trying to tell me? Blankets too tight?" He slipped his fingers into the wrap and loosened them slightly. The baby was not impressed.

"Help me out, love?" he begged her, rocking her from side to side. "What do you need? Just tell me and I'll get it. Would you like to hear a story? Or sing a song? Would you like a new frock? Or a doll? Or a pony…?

As he crooned at her, the baby's cries began to subside. She drew in shuddering breaths as her eyes blinked solemnly into John's. As his list grew longer and more ridiculous of things he'd get for her if she asked, she only made the occasional half-hearted squawk.

"How about wireless, hmm?" he went on lifting her up to place his cheek on hers. "Or a motorcar? A blue one?" She shifted restlessly. "Red, then… And a trip to London…?"

Gradually, the baby relaxed against his chest, her little body exhausted by the difficult task of telling her Mummy and Daddy just what she wanted. He cradled her close as his own heart resumed a natural rhythm again.

Anna, who had been watching from the kitchen the entire time, moved quietly into the room to beam at her husband. She stroke the top of the now sleeping baby's head and offered to take her back so John could drink his tea.

"No, I've got her," he declined, smiling back at her.

Anna lifted up on her tiptoes to press a kiss against his cheek. "You managed to find out what she was saying faster than I usually do."

"Well…I may have promised her a red motorcar to get her to stop crying…"

"Silly beggar," she replied with a laugh. "The only thing she wanted was her Daddy's voice. It's my favorite thing to listen to as well."

John raised his eyebrows at that and cast a doubtful look at his daughter. She twitched in her sleep and scrunched up her nose, making him smile broadly.

"I still say it was the motorcar…"

"Put her down for a bit of a rest and come drink your tea," she commanded. "Then you can talk to me some more."

John gently placed her in the basket next to the settee, tucked in her blankets and lightly kissed her forehead.

"We'll talk about the motorcar when you're older," he whispered. "We'll talk about everything."

With one last look at the peacefully sleeping baby, he returned to his wife's side, eager to see what sort effect his voice might have on her.


	13. A Second Night

A Second Night

Anna had never been this exhausted. And yet, in spite of John's whispered encouragement, she was unable to close her eyes and surrender to sleep.

The room was dim, bathed only in the light of a dying fire. It was as peaceful as she'd ever known Lady Mary's quarters to be. The bed was the softest, warmest she'd ever lain in. And every fiber of her being was pulling her into unconsciousness.

But she simply couldn't close her eyes. She squinted through a muzzy headed fog that was almost painful as she watched John in the chair by the fire hold their son in his arms, rocking unconsciously back and forth as he gazed in wonder and disbelief at the scrunched up face that twitched in restless sleep.

"He's asleep," she whispered, reluctant to disturb the blanket of peace laying over the room with anything louder. John's eyes flickered over to her, shining softly as he quirked a tiny smile.

"And you're not," he whispered back.

"I can't get enough of watching you with him," she admitted, hitching herself up on her elbow and ignoring his chastising eyebrow. "I'd be hovering over your shoulder, if I could get out bed."

His eyes caressed her face even as he shook his head at her. She smiled and laid back down on the pillow, but kept her eyes on them. His eyes wandered back to his son's face, but not before he took a brief look around the room and smiled a bit more broadly.

"What's that smirk for, Mr. Bates?" she asked fighting a yawn and feeling her eyelids droop in spite of her will.

John adjusted the baby so that he was pressed against his chest and rubbed his cheek against the fine hair on top of his head. His eyes went back to Anna's, sparkling with memory.

"I've only spent the night upstairs in this house twice…" he began, smiling as she wrinkled her brow for a moment in thought. When her eyes widened as she realized what he was referring to, his smile grew.

"John," she began, trying for a scolding tone, but unable to suppress her own tiny smile.

"And they've been the happiest nights of my life," he finished, appreciating the shine in her eyes.

Holding his son tightly with one arm, he levered himself up from the chair and shuffled over to Lady Mary's large bed. Anna watched him as he scooted up next to her, tucking her up under his other arm. She looked up at the face she loved so very much and felt herself tearing up at how perfectly content he was at that moment.

"Now go to sleep," he ordered quietly, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, then on the top of their son's head.

Anna reached out to gently caress her son's hand and closed her eyes.

"Everything is perfect, John," she breathed as she felt sleep roll over her.

"It is if you'll sleep in my arms," he replied. "Both of you."


	14. Not a Problem

Not a Problem

She was still buzzing with the excitement of it. Unused to not eventually getting her way, Mary Crawley simply did not have the same trepidation and hesitation as did Anna Bates. Her Lady's Maid and, dare she say it, dear and loyal friend _would_ be pregnant. Her wishes and desires, always seeming just out of reach or ripped away when least expected _would_ be brought to fruition.

That is, if Lady Mary Crawley had anything to say or do about it. And she did.

As her mind flew through the arrangements that would need to be made, the subterfuge necessary to assuage Bates' suspicions, she knew she was smiling broadly. As the details began to come together in her thoughts, she paid no attention to the bustle of the maids in the rooms or the opening of her father's dressing room door.

It was thanks to his quick reflexes, and a sudden pivot on his cane, that Mr. Bates did not walk right into her. He had tuned to close the door behind him and, not seeing her striding down the corridor, nearly rammed into her when he turned back to begin his measured way towards the servant's stair.

Mary gasped and jumped slightly to the side to avoid him. He pressed himself back against the wall with a grunt and fumbled to keep hold of the armload of His Lordship's clothing.

"Oh! Goodness! You came out of nowhere, Bates."

"I'm very sorry, M'lady," he replied immediately, professional politeness overriding any impulse to raise the point that _she_ hadn't been watching where she was going and that her father's dressing room was hardly _nowhere_.

Professional politeness was unable to prevent a small lift of his eyebrow when she did not accept his apology with a gracious nod of her head and move on. As she stared at him for a moment, a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth, the first eyebrow was joined by the other one and he tilted his head in uncomfortable confusion.

"Can I help with anything, M'lady?" he finally asked after clearing his throat.

"No. I think you've done quite enough already," she responded.

"Is there a problem?" he asked brusquely, wondering at her smile, which was beginning to look more like a delighted grin, to his great consternation and wonder.

"Not at all. No problem, Bates," she promptly replied, biting her lip to stem the extremely uncharacteristic urge to giggle. At his expression, she had to walk away quickly, throwing a dismissal over her shoulder at him as they shook with repressed laughter. She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she stepped quickly to the stairs and hoped he didn't catch her bark of laughter as she descended.

"Is Lady Mary quite alright?" Bates asked his wife in a low voice the first moment they had together.

"I think so," she replied. "Why?"

"I just had the oddest conversation with her."

"Really? I didn't think you and Lady Mary _had_ conversations."

"I didn't think so either. But I almost ran into her upstairs. She seemed very…preoccupied about something."

Anna hummed noncommittally and directed her gaze at the top of the table.

"Ordinarily, she doesn't pay all that much attention to me. But something about me struck her as funny."

"Oh?" she said nervously.

"And when I asked her if there was a problem, I thought she was going to burst out laughing.

Anna's tea cup began to rattle in the saucer and she set it down. Fortunately, Mr. Bates didn't notice her expression twist to hold back a sudden giggle.

"What do you suppose is going on?" he asked, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"Honestly, I couldn't say," she murmured.


End file.
